Stay Safe: Chapter Sixteen
What follows is a chapter from "Stay Safe: Life After Loss," a book that I wrote following the death of my brother, Robert James Reeves. Rob, only 14-months younger than me and 32 years old at the time of his death, was a Navy SEAL on the prestigious SEAL Team 6. On August 6, 2011, while on a mission in Afghanistan, he and too many of his teammates and other servicemen, lost their lives when their helicopter was shot down by enemy fire. It was the single largest loss of American life in the Afghan war. And because of the high profile nature of this event–being on the cusp of the Bin Laden mission and the number of those lost–my dad and I were part of many, many memorials and events, and the recipients of much outreach, and the point of contact for all those wanting to do something in Rob’s memory. This book chronicles the first month after his death. I am releasing a chapter a day starting August 5th as we mark the fourth anniversary of life without him.
After the service, we all gathered in the Parish Hall for a reception. Rob and I grew up attending events and activities in the Parish Hall. It is disconcerting how these things bring up old memories. I remember youth group meetings, basketball games, P.E. classes and holiday festivals held in this hall. Rob and I were so young when we were active at the church. But I had never seen so many people in it as there was that day: the room was jam-packed and hotter than hell. It was, after all, August in Louisiana and we were cramming small spaces with hundreds of people.Dad described this reception as his entire life passing before his eyes at ten-second intervals. It was kind of like that for me, too. People I didn't recognize hugged me like they knew me. It was a blur. I can’t remember who all was there, who I met and who I talked to or about what. We met Navy guys that had been bussed in to the church after landing on two dedicated planes (yes, two planes!). Because R. didn't know anyone there and it just made me feel better, I asked him to stand there with me while I greeted all these people. I introduced to him to almost everyone. Though it was probably awkward for him, he didn’t express it. We didn’t talk about it, though later he said he was glad he could be there for me.Once the crowd starting thinning out, our new police lieutenant friend, Larry “Mo” Cunningham, told me that we should probably go and asked that I get Dad. There were representatives from the Governor's office waiting at our house. The police hadn't let them in yet (we had an officer guarding the house while we were at the service). The police escorted us out of the church and escorted our vehicles back to the house. When we were walking out of the church, he was talking into his radio to announce to his team that we were leaving, like we were really important. Crista couldn’t resist making a joke—something like “Butterfly is exiting”—which the officer loved. At least we were trying to keep the situation from getting too heavy.We headed back to the house and it was already full of people. A lot of the SEAL team guys came over, too. The house, the front yard and the back patio and yard were covered with men in uniform. All of them seemed tall, handsome and polite. And each had a story to tell about Rob.The Governor's office presented Dad with a Louisiana flag that was flown over the capital in Rob’s honor. The Navy presented Dad with a plaque and photo. The Patriot Guard presented him with a framed certificate. We played two slide show videos, one that my agency created, and one that the Navy created. They were filled with pictures of his childhood, vacations and military service. Rob typically posed for the camera, so many of the photos were funny. Both were great and got played over and over again into the night. And people cried each time they were played.The party continued well into the night. It was interesting to see our different pockets of friends grouped throughout the house. Although as it got later, the groups started merging. There was talk about what we were all going to do next. It was already past 9 PM. Some people wanted to go out to dinner, some people wanted to go out to the Cub, a popular Shreveport bar. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do, but perhaps get some peace and quiet. I didn't want to go to dinner because I felt like the host that evening and couldn't leave my own party and didn't want to leave anyone out. And I just wasn't feeling up to going to the Cub, I was still fighting a cold after all. And I had R. with me. He had hung in there quite well. I was feeling so good about his being here and wanted a little bit of alone time with him.So the house cleared out, but only after lots of crazy inappropriate conversation around the kitchen table. Mostly recalling old stories about me or about Rob, since we were the glue that brought all the people around the table that night. But there was other talk to, like Misha’s business idea for “Pusstencils,” stencils to shape pubic hair (an idea she didn’t jump on before Vajazzling became a real thing). Everyone went their separate ways. Some to the Cub. Some home. Some to other places. R. and I went to bed, me feeling crummy from the cold I had and tired from the day. I curled myself around him and immediately fell asleep.
Read other chapters of this book.
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